The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 2

I rev the engine again and scream in irritation. "Stupid piece of junk! You sorry excuse for a truck..." I mutter as I get out of the pick up truck and slam the door closed. "Car troubles?" an attractive man about my age asks as he casually runs his hand through his hair. I smile fakely and say, "No, no troubles. I just yelled at my truck and decided to leave it on the side of the road for no reason." I smile sweetly. The man laughs and says, "Could I lend you a hand?" I feel like saying, "Yea, you could lend me your cell phone and let me call triple A so I don't have to wait an hour before you give up," but instead I say, "Sure. Thanks." He picks up the hood of my car and I roll my eyes as he looks around in my engine. I know for a fact that only a professional can handle my little crud-on-wheels. After about fifteen minutes he says, "Maybe you should call triple A." I smile sweetly again and say, "I don't have a phone on me. Could I use yours?" He frowns and says, "I think I left it at home."

Two hours later, I get back on the road. I pull into Joch's, the little coffee shop I work at, and kick my car for breaking down by the most inconvenient guy ever. "You're very late," Seth Joch points out as I step behind the counter and tie my apron on. I smile at him and say, "I realize that. Thanks for reminding me." He takes a sip of the coffee he's drinking in his huge 'Joch's' mug and murmurs, "Anytime."

After facing one teenage girl who doesn't understand the concept of Joch's not having Starbucks drinks, one seven year old who stood there for about ten minutes staring at the menu and then announced she couldn't read, and one group of locals that knew all the most complicated drinks and were familiar with that fact that they were the best, Jesse walks in the front door. Finally. "Hi, Jesse," I say with a big smile. Jesse also works at Joch's. He's my reliever. He smiles widely and says, "Hey, pretty girl." He's also my boyfriend. He kisses my forehead as I tell him I got to run and rush out the door to my truck. Aw, the joys of working at a Cafe.

"JA-ANE?" I call into the large empty house. My sister, Jane, recently moved into this monster of a house. She's decided to not use very much furniture so that it will seem more roomy. I told her that, for one thing, the house was already huge, and second, the roominess was really creepy. She decided my opinion didn't matter. "JANE!" I call again. "In here!" my sister's tired voice calls from the study. I walk down the long hallway into the study, a room that always smells like incense and is filled with book cases. I think she should change the name of this room to the library, but she said that people who have libraries in their house only call them libraries to show how rich they are. I think she's a weirdo. "What are you doing?" I ask as I see her leaning over the big mahogany table reading an old looking piece of paper. She looks up at me, smiles, and says, "I'm reading about the history of this house." I look down at the dully colored paper, back up at Jane, and then say, "I'm going to make coffee."

"Could you get me a cup, too?"

"Is that the reason you told me to hurry over?" I ask. She raises and eyebrow, "I told you to hurry over?" I nod and she says, "Oops. I meant to tell you to call Trace and tell him to hurry over." I groan, pick up the purse I dropped on the table, and say, "Goodbye, Jane."

"No coffee?"

"No coffee."

I walk into my small house and breath in the stench of fresh cookies. I smile widely and walk into the kitchen. There stands my best friend in the world, Tibby. I am not surprised that she is making cookies in my house when I'm not even home. "Ello!" she says happily. I smile widely as she hands me a cookie and a glass of milk. I sigh happily, sit down at the table, and say, gratefully, "Thanks." Sometimes a friend, a cookie, and a glass of milk can make everything better.

© 2009